Time to Ourselves
by Flailingkittylover
Summary: Wonder sped through her head, moving as quickly as the blurs passing by the passenger window. It was possible her plan would be too much, she could be pushing the limits, but there weren't enough chances to be alone with him for worry to stop her. Male!Crona/Maka. Rated M for mature themes.
1. Chapter 1

**To make a long story short, I'm not sated with the amount of smut stories with Crona and Maka. It makes me oh so sad;-; And as a result of that, this idea popped into my head.**

 **And on we go~**

* * *

They sat on the couch before the television, the evening moon and flashing television acting like nightlights to the living room swallowed in darkness. The apartment was warm and quiet, and the genuine smile Crona had worn throughout the night started to ache.

He was sure some kind of interruption would happen during dinner, whether it was in making a nervous fool out of himself in a crowded, fancy restaurant or Ragnarok jumping out to scarf his plate down and demand for the fanciest wine for the king sitting on his pink throne. Much to Crona's chagrin, his partner didn't co-operate in staying put if Maka and he weren't celebrating a special occasion; the simple opportunity to be romantic and together left Ragnarok scoffing or gagging dryly.

That was what made tonight a special case.

For the first time in… _awhile_ , Ragnarok kept inside his flesh prison, even withheld the insults the couple expected to be thrown during the evening walk through the park. Crona was able to experience the beautiful feel to the parks at night without hearing a slight at how boring or girly it was. Artificial light from lampposts reflected and shimmered over the pond's surface with fireflies buzzing in spirals over it, the night sky resting above dusty with stars. It made him more grateful to have Maka by the hip and witness the sights with her during the stroll.

Then, after they walked back into the city streets, Crona became puzzled.

Ragnarok failed to burst forth when they went into an ice cream parlor, didn't screech demands for a shoot 'em up film or horror flick when they searched for a movie to watch, either. He may be able to restrain himself-at least, in the rare moments when he felt necessary- but Crona knew his partner had his limits to how long or where he could contain his interrupting impulses.

The sword didn't answer when Crona called through their inner bond, didn't feign barfing when Maka pulled a blanket over them on the couch and rested herself on his shoulder. A mixed torrent of content and uncertainty swirled in the pit of his belly.

Maybe Ragnarok was asleep. Or he was ignoring him, and all Crona could really do was wait, lasso his thin arms around Maka's waist like she did to him, and hope his stubborn friend would answer his summons later.

As the movie played, warmth radiated from inside the thick blanket, and the swordsman relaxed into ease. Being in a cover so warm must be what being a cocoon is like, enveloped in pleasant heat and protection, only he had a partner to share it with.

He rested his cheek on the bed of silky sand-blonde tucked under his neck. He could spend an eternity like this. He didn't care if the daydream he fell into made key points of the movie fly by him, his eyelids falling sleepily. He was more than happy to stay like this for the rest of the night, or more, if time would allow it.

A soft, sudden stroke on his side broke Crona from his reverie, making him jerk upright from his slouch. With startled eyes he peered under the blanket and found that Maka had moved her hand underneath the right side of his pajama top.

Maka looked up at him, emerald eyes shining with worry in the dark. "Crona? What's wrong?"

He blushed, embarrassed that a slow brush of fingers moving on him nearly made his skeleton leap out of his skin. "N-Nothing." he replied. "I um…I'm just a little cold. Maybe walking around at night wasn't the smartest idea I had."

Her brows furrowed. "You're cold while under a thick blanket with another person pressed against you?"

"…yes."He lamely answered. "I don't know how to describe it, exactly. I just… _am_."

Worry evaporated from her expression, replaced with suspicious wonder. Crona swallowed hard when a raise of a fine, blonde brow and corner lifting lips showed themselves.

The hand on his side moved to make a slow swipe against his skin, fingertips lightly prodding, and Crona let the invisible zipper tightening his lips hold back his giggles. His resistance made her stop momentarily, until a rushing hand attacked the underside of his left armpit to squeeze repeatedly and wriggle her fingers around. Crona jumped, flailing under the blanket, sputtering out his held-in laughs.

"I knew you were ticklish." Maka giggled with a smile. "But I always forget just how _easy_ it is to find a ticklish spot on you." Crona groaned sheepishly, dipping his head under the blanket to hide his flush. She dove under after him, placing a quick kiss to the middle of his hot forehead. "But don't worry. It just makes you that much more adorable."

A small pout framed his lips. "I don't like how easy it is. I know everyone is a _little_ ticklish, b-but I don't know why I'm…more so."

"Not everyone is ticklish~." Maka sang. "If I've been able to deny Spirit any pleasure when I was young, it's been in his attempts at tickling me. Didn't laugh once."

Crona stared at her. He was shocked, to say the least. He wasn't used to hearing Maka tell him such an obvious lie to his face, or lie to him at all. "But…yes you are."

"Am I?"

"Maybe not _everywhere_ like I am. But you…" He hesitated, mumbling quietly, "I know that you're ticklish."

"Really?" Maka tilted her head. "And how do you know where?"

The water had to be tread carefully here. Something was amiss, the mischief in her eyes told him that. And if he knew any facts at all, it was that even the kind, caring people like Maka Albarn had their devious streaks.

He learned _that_ the hard way.

"N-Nevermind." Crona lifted the blanket off his head and tried to bring his attention back to the movie. "It's not important. I'm probably thinking about someone else. I remember Liz is pretty ticklish and Patty torments her with it almost every day in class, so…maybe that's where I got the idea."

"But you seemed so sure." Maka insisted. "You sure I'm not ticklish here?" A finger wormed into his armpit again, shocking his muscles into jerking his body. "Orrrrrr, here?" Another warm hand squeezed his side, grabbing at whatever could be called fat or muscle, and he thrashed around under the blanket, his giggles strained.

She repeated this _endlessly_. It made him laugh, but it was a breathless, burning laughter, like he was fighting for air. How could anyone find this _fun_?

The blanket fell off their laps as Crona fought to get away from Maka's digging and squeezing hands. Desperation for air and peace set in, and if she really wanted to see, then he'd show her so this madness could _end_ already!

With his back arching from another side grab, Crona took hold of the top of Maka's knee, clutching at it repeatedly like it was a stress-ball. She shrieked in surprise. Her body twitched, and released her hands from him to force his grip off, cursing breathlessly that this was more of _torturing_ than _tickling_.

Crona finally let go and the couple collapsed to opposite sides of the couch. They breathed in deep breaths, swallowing in as much air as they could.

"So it's a _fight_ you're looking for, is it?" The mischievous smirk Crona knew all too well broadened on Maka's face. His now blue orbs filled with panic while Maka's twinkled dangerously. "Alright then. Let's _go_!"

Crona yelped. He clambered away from her, trying to sit up from the couch to flee, but restrictive hands took hold of the back of his shirt. She pinned him face-down on the sofa, sitting on his lower back, her small knees sitting on the palms of his hands to keep all of him at bay.

From a side-glance, the frightened swordsman saw the devilish intent in her eyes. She took her time in cracking her knuckles, wriggling her fingers in preparation for what came next.

He should have known better. He was stupid for not keeping his mouth shut or just taking the torture. This had been a _trick_ the entire time!

Fingers crawled and wiggled into Crona's side, inducing his sharp inhales for breath and choked giggles. Her fingertips chillingly raked down his back, hands grabbing every part she could get ahold of.

"Ma-Ma-Ma- _KA_!"Crona pleaded in-between giggles. "T-T-tha- _gah_! That tick- _les_! _Haha_! S-Stop! Please!"

Maka's grin widened. She responded with more grabs to his side, denying Crona any chance of mercy. His back arched, lungs burning, feet flailing against the couch cushions.

He needed to set himself free, or he'd be faced with acting like a thrashing, gasping fish for however long Maka pleased. There had to be a way to fight back.

Crona wriggled one of the hands restrained by Maka's knee, edging it closer to freedom with every arch and jerk his body made. Once it slipped free, he turned onto his side, launched his hand to the top of her knee, and squeezed at it again.

Maka cried out, her strong stance on him wilting. Small hands tried to push him off again, attempting to get a poke at his stomach to weaken him, but Crona's instincts crept into play. He twisted himself over to lie face-up, gathering together her wrists in his hands. The sides of his legs clamped at her sides, rocking his body forward until Maka fell onto her back. With a practically permanent grin, Maka kept resisting his hold-an unyielding fighter until the very end- and Crona quickly planted her fighting hands above her head, keeping her in place.

She looked almost as surprised as Crona was. Throughout the times Black Star gave him wrestling tips, sat on the swordsman's back when he failed, motivated him with yells and threatening farts to his face to keep trying, his advise actually _worked_ when it wasn't being used against a man with the power of a hundred gorillas.

They lay there, gasping for air with smiles and breathless laughs. When Maka's eyes darted around, her crafty smile returned. "I know this can be counted as a fight and repercussions are needed for the loser, but I wasn't expecting you to try a new position. I admit, you've caught me off guard."

Crona blinked, cocking his head to the side in confusion. "What do you mean?"

A giggle of amusement rather than mischief left her. "Take a look for yourself, and you tell me."

Puzzled, Crona did as she said. He looked down and around, discovering the position they shared while he was on top: her wrists held over her head, their hips locked against the other, their faces mere inches apart.

Blood rushed into the swordsman's face. He squeaked, releasing Maka and jumping back to scramble backwards on the couch. He bonked the back of his head on the wooden part of an armrest, and wrenched his eyes shut with a pained hiss.

Maka pounced back on top of him within a second. She hovered her face teasingly close to his, and like an instinctive shield, Crona brought his forearms to his chest. The stare she gazed into him with almost made him wish he could sink his body and face into the cloudy cushions to shy away. Maka's thoughtful smile made her more attractive, and it scared Crona that he still didn't know how to deal with it.

Or resist against it.

"I never did say thank you for tonight." She said in a hushed whisper. Firm hands glided over the lean crevices tangible through his PJ top. "I did have fun, but as you said, the park was pretty cold, and these thin pajamas probably don't help in warming you up." Her warm breath gusted over his lips. "Have any ideas to how we can fix that?"

Crona shuddered. The want in her gaze made aggressive shivers rattle his body, and he swore he looked like a brainless idiot with his tremoring gape and the hammering of his heart pounding against Maka's hand. All he could muster out was a tiny squeak.

The seduction in Maka's smile faded. She leaned back, her features turning soft. "Or maybe I'm going overboard again. I've made you do one thing you don't like to do already. It would be unfair to make you do something else you're uncomfortable with." Closing her eyes sheepishly, Maka gave him a small grin. "Sorry about that."

That made Crona frown.

Uncomfortable was the last word he would have considered for his view on being intimate with her. It was more like…an adjustment, if that made sense.

The infernos of fear toward sex had been reduced to a low flame, manageable enough for them to try more than a couple of times since their first. Yet his shyness remained toward it, and Maka always reiterated that it would fade over time with help from their time together. She wouldn't even push the matter if he wished against it.

But he could see she _wanted_ it; wanted him. The knowledge made his nerves and face burn hot.

When Maka moved to lift off of him, Crona's growing resolve spurred him to take hold of her hips. Her eyes darted to him, wide with surprise. With her shock fading, Maka started to giggle, and Crona wasn't surprised if she was laughing at his enthusiasm toward her invitation, his tight hands on her hips, or how red his face had become.

Placing a hand on his cheek, Maka leaned in, pressing her lips to his. A lone hand rested against his chest, the knees planted at his sides serving as Maka's supports. Her pelvis shifted against Crona's, his breathing growing heavy as the slow movements of their jaws rocked his head back into the seat cushion.

The tip of her tongue swept across Crona's bottom lip, seeking entry. His mouth opened, allowing the slick appendages to mingle, flicking and coiling around the other in a slow fight. Her hands slid up to thread into strands of bubble-gum pink hair, cupping the back of his head. As she lowered and pressed her chest onto his, Crona whimpered into their joined mouths, marveling at the curvaceous feel of her body, the soft push of her breasts.

His hands shook on her waist. He lost the battle and Maka's invasion turned into a plundering of his mouth, lips sealed tight to his, the hand on his shirt balling fabric to bring him closer. The scalding fire that burned in his stomach branched out, setting his chest ablaze, tingling between his legs. The need to feel her was overwhelming, and not for the first time, Crona wished the heat would burn off the clothing they wore. They were nothing but walls, blocking the hot contact his body cried out for.

Detaching her lips from his, Maka pulled back, a line of saliva joining their bottom lips. She rose up until she was perched atop him, staring down silently.

Crona saw the question in her half-lidded eyes, asking where he wanted to go from here. Trapped in the whirlwind of unbearable heat and intoxication of Maka, instinct drowned Crona's senses.

His hands crept under the rim of her shirt, moving up the toned landscape of Maka's back. His fingertips skidded on a couple fleshy road-bumps along the way- scars of past fights leaving their mark. He made sure to pass them gently, giving an affectionate swipe on them to expel away any self-consciousness she may have; wounds left behind was a problem he was more than familiar with. Capturing his lips with hers again, Maka worked to reclaim her territory, searching deeper inside it.

When he reached her shoulder blades, Crona was surprised and relieved to find her bra absent. He guided his hands down the trenches of her ribs, letting a couple of fingers glide underneath her breast. His thumb rose up to circle over a nipple.

A shuddering moan from Maka slipped down his throat. Lust-driven, the scythe wielder's kiss turned feral, biting down on his bottom lip, hands shoving him deeper into the cushions. The stir between his legs turned into a hardening ache, quickly shifting into throbs as Maka rubbed against him. He cupped a peach-sized globe, giving it a strong, slow knead.

Maka's lips fell away, gasping with her eyes sewn shut, sweat gathering at the sides of her face. She whimpered as he rubbed a thumb around her nipple, squeezing her with those soft, calloused hands.

She gave his hardness beneath her a slow, torturous grind, responding to his teasing. Crona's grip twitched into a firmer hold, sparking alive the electric jolt running up her spine. Lifting herself up again, the eager meister reached for her shirt.

Maka opened only the top two buttons of her PJ top. Crona would have been more confused on what she wanted from him if she hadn't moved her hands to slide down his chest, grabbing at the rim of his pajama bottoms. He was quaking, his heavy eyes drunk in the stupor of lust, and his hands quickly grew a mind of their own. They were quick to shoot for her chest, unbuttoning the outer locks to Maka's shirt. She pushed up on her knees to hover over him, got a better hold on his pants, and Crona thought there was no way the room could not _possibly_ get any warmer than it felt now.

Then the knob to the front door wriggled.

A shock of ice froze Crona's insides and Maka's eyes snapped to the door. She propelled herself backwards to topple off him, scrambling with her back to the door to refasten her shirt buttons.

They frantically sat up in their seats, adjusting their appearances as the door swung open. A high-pitched squeal filled the air.

"You guys will not _believe_ the haul of tips I got today!" A gleeful voice announced. Large pumpkins carrying shopping bags floated into the room, Blair strolling in not far behind. Crona was surprised to find that her arms were also stuffed with groceries. Why a grocery store would be open so late, he wasn't sure, but Blair always did have a knack for making vendors tend to her needs at any hour.

The magical cat placed the bags on the table, letting her excited face show. "I knew rich men can be lonely, this poor guy today was the embodiment of it, but he gave a _much_ more generous tip than any other wealthy man I've serviced! He was a sweetie, too. I guess he just needed someone to talk to. I hope he comes find me the next time he's around, though. And if that time he wants to reserve a chance to be alone with me, I know _just_ the right tricks to perk him up!"

Crona's cheeks turned pink while Maka let out an irritated sigh. They knew that Blair was Blair, and no amount of spraying water at her or scoldings would stop her talking about her sexually adventurous job or nature.

Maka then frowned, spotting the human-form cat walk into the kitchen and twist a knob of the stove to ignite the fire.

"Blair, what are you doing?" she asked.

"When I stopped by the fish shop to get more tuna, the owner gave me some crab and lobster! I've been waiting for _days_ for a fresh batch to come in. I hope you like seafood omelets!"

"B-But it's almost midnight." Crona chimed in.

"That means it's closer to morning. So when it comes, breakfast will be ready! Now run off to bed you two. Blair will have it ready in a bit."

"Hold on a second."Maka slid off the couch, walking over to the kitchen. "There's no way I'm going to sleep while you're manning the stove. For all I know, I'm going to wake up to a bed of ashes that was once our apartment and find _you_ still trying to cook burnt fish."

"But Blair has been practicing! I know when to stop cooking the fish now! It's after it starts to look all crispy and flaky, not when it becomes black, right?"

The tired meister sighed. "Blair, it's late. This can wait until tomorrow. And if you want Crona's and my help, we will give it to you."

With a twitch of her ears, Blair cocked her head. "But wouldn't you guys like it if you had breakfast in bed after you're done in your room? It's the least thing Blair can do after interrupting you two. I know how it feels to get interrupted. It's so _annoying_!"

The color drained from Crona's face. Wincing, he inched back in his seat as Blair gave him a devious wink, tapping at her nose; he had forgotten animals could sense when mates were in heat, a scent their cat friend was all too familiar with.

Maka made sure she stayed strong and still in her sentry-like stance, but she could feel a light blush betraying her. "It's none of your business."

"So you _don't_ deny in being busy before I walked in?"

"I said it's _none_ of your business. Now turn off the stove and go to sleep. You can cook in the morning. "

Blair pouted childishly. "But I'm hungry _nowwwww_. I didn't even get a lunch break because I was so busy! _Pleaseee_?"

Before Maka could answer, one of the bags of groceries floated up into the air. Maka grabbed it before it could speed off, but her grip on the bag didn't stop the seafood and other products from bursting out from the top. "Blair, I told you! _Tomorrow_!"

"But it'll be less fresh tomorrow!"

"That doesn't mean it won't still be fresh! You only have to wait eight hours!"

"Eight hours is too long for Blair!"

The door to Soul's room opened, allowing the irritated scythe to poke his messy, white head out. "Alright, it's nearly midnight and I've been hearing nothing but noises. What in the literal _hell_ is-!"

A slap to the cheek from a large tuna zipping by cut Soul off. He twirled around and fell down to the floor, his eyes spinning.

The strong stench of fish stung the air, Soul was drooling on the floor, unconscious, and Blair hissed and whined in cat form as Maka forced her out of the kitchen with a mini-hose from the sink, spraying her with water.

And within all the havoc, the smile on Crona's face could not be put down.

Maka always told him he had become a part of the chaotically lovable family living in the apartment. He still didn't understand it, probably never would, but his nerves and uncertainty to this new setting was dulling over the time spent here. All of them welcomed him with open arms, and he was more than thankful to them.

That made Crona feel all the more guilty for wishing Blair and Soul weren't around.

 _They_ owned this apartment, not him. It was not within his place to crave for Maka and he to be alone like they had once been, wish Soul and Blair away so they could be left in silence. He even began to wonder what Maka could mean by a "new position". There were more than what was, well… _usual_?

Crona bit his bottom lip. The stress of school and lack of quality time with Maka was probably making him overly needy, and when he or Soul and Maka were on missions separately, it added more to his pathetic anxiety.

Maka glanced at him from the kitchen, Blair scampering about around her legs, pawing at her as she begged to cook her food. She forced herself to produce a smile, hoping it was enough for him to tell that they would have to pick up where they left off another time. The mood was dead now.

And through the brief exchange, Crona was sure Maka also wondered when would be the next time they'd be able to have more time together too.

* * *

 **To answer a question some of you may have, yes, I've thought of incorporating Ragnarok in one of their pillow play times. How, you also ask? Well, we'll see~**


	2. Chapter 2

**I don't think I made it too explicit, but there may be some discomforting subject matter as the chapter continues. This is rated M, after all. So be warned.**

* * *

"You're serious about this, right? You're not pulling my leg?"

Crona sat in a chair near the desk and gazed up at his partner. "Why would I lie?"

"Because it's not like you to take my advice, especially with the moody warden being around twenty-four-seven." Ragnarok answered.

"Maka isn't a warden." Crona defended. "And I don't listen to some of your advises because it's often not very _good_ advice…o-or nice."

Ragnarok snorted and crossed his thin arms. "But you can admit she's an advantageous devil, can't you? Last night was a perfect example."

The skin between Crona's brows pinched. "So you _could_ hear me last night."

"Not like I had a choice. If I could switch off my ears, or find some magical way to shut you two out, I would have done it on day one. It's bad enough I have listen to her yapping. Now I have to hear her cringe-worthy performance lines before she rapes the shit out of you."

"I've told you to stop saying mean things about Maka." Crona said sharply. "She's never raped me a-and she's _not_ a nympho either! Maka's just…" He bit his lip. The timid swordsman brought his chin to his chest, tapping two fingers together as he gathered his words. "She says she's just playing around. She's never tried to hurt me, and I-I know she won't. She's just getting a little more…aggressive than I'm used to."

"If her trying to jab your insides or making your lungs feel like they're about to explode is what you call a little aggressive, I don't want to know what your definition is for _too_ aggressive."

Squirming in his seat, Crona frowned. "W-Why are you even out anyway? You didn't answer me at all yesterday, and all of a sudden, you come out and make a suggestion to me. Why?"

Ragnarok waved a small, dismissive hand, replying, "That's not important. What _does_ matter is if the thing I heard those guys in class talk about is real or not. And last I checked, you agreed to finding out with me. So are you ready or what?"

The upturn of thin lips melted away from Crona's mouth, replaced by an anxious cringe. He looked to the computer screen, one hand gripping his arm, the other's fingers nervously tapping on the keyboard. "I am b-but…I-I don't know how to find it, or remember what the name is. O-Or-."

"Oh, for the love of fucking-move over!" Ragnarok melted into his meister to burst out of his front, slapping the swordsman's hand away. The sword cursed under his breath, damning the laptop's keys for being too small for his balled, lack-of-fingers hands until he finally managed to type in the site's name. Once Ragnarok clicked on the link, the home page sprang up. A whistle of interest sang from him while the whites of Crona's eyes inflated.

Images peppered the borders of the site's home page… _graphic_ images; much too revealing for Crona's comfort. Women were broadcasting their chests or other parts of their bodies through pictures; others had their frames frozen while some were in the middle of intercourse. Some windows weren't pictures at all. They were… _moving_.

Sweat started to bead on Crona's brow, a snake of fear coiling tightly around his lungs.

He was _not_ going to like this.

"I've been thinking about that new position thing micro-tits mentioned too." Ragnarok said. "I thought there was only one way to do it- you know, like the way the animals on the nature show screw and other shit like that. But too much of everything gets boring after awhile." The sword examined the screen and let out a sharp hoot of amusement. "Those two guys behind us maybe loud wiseasses, but they know their stuff on what sites to look at. Look at this gold mine. I didn't even know some of this shit was possible! That girl _has_ to be flexible or fucking magical if she can put her damn knees behind her ears."

Crona cringed, his skin and cheeks burning with a white hot flame. Ragnarok enjoyed and marveled at what the site had to offer while his meister slumped deep into his chair, bringing his shaking hands to his face.

He remembered how flushed and angry Maka would become when the students spoke in class about this site-a porn website, as she had named it. They told each other strange video names to look up, busty women to ogle at, and what they would _do_ to the girls had they been theirs. It made Crona shudder when he heard their in-depth detail. They wouldn't stop either until Maka sank her book so deep into their skulls, it nearly became one with bone.

Maka told him those sites were awkward, gross, and a waste of time. But Crona wondered if he could learn from a something like this. Yes, the pictures were awfully uncomfortable, dotted with people he had no clue as to who they were while engaging in aggressive sexual activity, but he only knew so much. He was aware of what instinct told him, and Ragnarok was right: doing the same thing too often could get boring. It could be like eating the same thing every day: it evolves into routine; a dull, well-practiced, and uninteresting part of the day.

Crona hated that thought; that if he gave Maka that experience, she could grow to feel that way.

The black blood monster liquefied his form to recede into Crona, ripped out from his back, and grabbed at his partner's head, shaking him. "Remember, you told me that you _wanted_ to look this shit up and get more ideas. To please her or do whatever other kind of shit you moan about not knowing how to do. I'm telling you, this site is going to help us out. Are you backing out on me already?"

"I know I said I wanted to."Crona mumbled pitifully. "I-I still do. I just don't understand..." His teeth started to chatter, backing his face away from the computer. "Why are all these pictures so _graphic_? A-And why are they willingly naked in a place where everyone can see them? T-That's embarrassing!"

"I don't know, and honestly, I don't care. The people bouncing around in those videos and pictures can't act any differently than what you two rabbits pull when the shark-boy and purple-jugs bolt outta here. Now be quiet. You still owe me for keeping my yap shut last night."

A dreading moan tumbled out from Crona's lips. "I don't…I don't think…"

Ragnarok clutched at a patch of pink hair and yanked Crona back, growling, "Before you even _start_ , answer me this: how else are you going to learn about what you want? You going to improvise? Are you holding out on me and you already have some ideas? You're _obviously_ so skilled in sex. So, go on. Enlighten me."

Red-faced and pouting, Crona dipped his head in shame, seeing his partner's point. "Fine…" he mumbled, defeated. "Let's find one."

The impatient sword threw Crona's head forward with his release, nodding with approval. "Good. Now let's get cracking." Ragnarok vanished and breached out of Crona's torso. He placed himself in the comfortable spot that was the front of the computer, his eyes reading intently as he examined the video list. "Let's see. Hmm. Alright, these tags have some weird fucking names. I knew there are different fetishes out there, but what the hell is bondage? Okay, standard and oral I get. But-"The demon paused, his small eyes rolling in their sockets. "Toys? What the hell do GI Joes have to do with this? And anal? Orgy?" His face drifted closer to the screen. " _Foot_ fetish?"

There was a pause. Ragnarok looked over his black as ink shoulder, catching the gaze of the brow-crinkled swordsman.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Crona questioned.

"No reason. I just thought this video might be something you might, you know, want to try out."

"W-Why? What is it?"

Ragnarok rubbed the bottom of his spherical head. "From what I can guess, it has to do with feet touching your place downstairs." Crona looked at him blankly, not understanding. The sword sighed. "Basically, instead of Maka using her hands to find your pole that she _loves_ to go fishing for, she'd use her feet."

Crona stared at his partner quizzically before the puzzlement dissipated out from his face. Panic shortened his breath, his skin blanching into a sicker pale. "W-Wait, she'd put, they would- _n-no_! No, no! Why would you think I would _want_ to watch something with that?!"

"Well, with all that psychological shit the Bolt-Head spews about sons liking parts of mothers, and Medusa being barefoot, I thought-"

" _No!_ I-I'm not watching that!"

"Alright, alright already! _Sheesh_. It was only a suggestion. We'll find something else."

Crona cringed as his weapon started his scan again. He tried to keep his eyes away, closing them when he had seen too much for his liking. Ragnarok stuck out his tongue at videos appearing uninteresting, quickly clicking the down arrow for a video of his preference.

When the curious sword came across a video, he cackled out mischievous laughter. "Now _this_ is what I'm talking about. I'm calling in my favor, Crona. This is something that your dominatrix doesn't or will ever have: a giant rack and big, sculpted ass. Just look at those pillows. You could practically sleep on her and it doesn't matter which way you do it!"

Before Crona could protest, Ragnarok played the video and the trembling pure-minded boy started to wish he could crawl under the bed and tuck into his turtle shell to hide from the provocative woman who lay on a heart-shaped mattress.

It was nothing against the red-haired woman. She was pretty and her toned physique must have attracted a massive crowd for the popularity of the video, but he didn't share the bouncing excitement Ragnarok had, only jabs of uncertainty and discomfort.

The swordsman shook his head, trying to knock himself out of his terror. He had to learn and as long as he focused on only the approaching man's actions and not the woman, it may not be so bad.

Crona sucked in a deep breath and forced himself to watch.

He ignored the actor's faces and strange dialogue, only studying how the man's hands moved on the girl's body, where they went to, how they worked between her thighs. The red-head moaned shriller than Maka did when he touched her there, squirmed more too. Did that mean he had done it wrong? Was he supposed to put four fingers inside like the man did, rather than one?

Crona grimaced as the man took back his wet fingers, pushed on the back of the woman's knees to pin them on the sides of her head, and in one swift thrust, sank himself as deep as his size would allow. The woman's howl of ecstasy was so loud, Crona nearly fell back in his chair.

Not even when he linked with Maka did she _ever_ make the noises this woman made. She made the low, sweet whimpers he liked when he moved, the sharp, hiccupping gasps when her body let go. Her noises were far from similar to the red-head's super-sonic scream that was so high-pitched and scratchy, it made Crona's brain feel like an awakening alarm clock rattling around in his head.

"Damn, he's really nailing her to the bed, isn't he?"Ragnarok commented. A cruel snicker rattled in the back of his throat. "Heh, literally. She sounds like a bitch in heat."

Crona frowned disapprovingly. "That's not a nice thing to say. A-And I don't think he's acting like a nail at all. I thought he was more like a jackhammer."

There was silence and the blinking swordsman knew his partner long enough to tell when Ragnarok's unreadable face bore him with a look of incredulity. "A what?"

"Y-You know those things that pulverize concrete? They go up and down rapidly without stopping, and he's kinda…" Crona paused, disquieted at how dirty his comparison sounded. "At least…t-that's what it looks like to me."

Ragnarok continued to stare. "It's a damn shame that I can't carry around a camera to record all your dumbest moments. I'd get rich off you. Nailing means fucking, idiot. I didn't say that _he_ was acting like a nail." The solidified black blob turned back to the screen. "But now that you mention it, he kinda is moving like a jackhammer. Get the bitch some ice packs afterwards! She'll be having bruises tomorrow!"

Discomfort was a growing headache pulsing in Crona's temples. The video was getting harder to watch as the couple continued and the swordsman wrenched his eyes shut when he sensed they were near finishing. As the ear-shattering screams started to die off, he peaked an eye open.

His horror had only just begun. Another man in a leopard speedo sashayed in, played out his lines, and jumped into the human pile. Crona's gut went as tight as a winded towel while Ragnarok guffawed loudly, somehow breathless with elation to see that poor woman be abused from behind and her screams-of what Crona thought was for help-not making it past the slick obstruction in her mouth.

T-This was…this was _not_ …

"Stop it." Crona blurted out hoarsely. "Please. I-I've had enough and I don't want to watch anymore."

His stubborn weapon hissed out a scoff. "Then close your eyes and cover your ears, flake. I'm not done watching yet."

"W-Well I am! I said t-turn it off!

Crona tried to reach for the power button, but Ragnarok grabbed his hand before he could press. "Damn it, I should have known better. You said you'd try out as many as possible with me! And you barely got past _one_. You traitor!"

"I've looked at all I can a-and one video was enough!"

Desperately, Crona tried to shake Ragnarok off. His right hand inched closer to the power button, but the sword closed his mouth around the swordsman's spare hand in a hard bite. Crona cried out. He tried to pull, yank, and shake his partner off, but the determined, solid blood didn't budge.

Crona leaned back in his chair, lifted a foot up, and pushed it onto the Demon Sword's face. Ragnarok met him like a stubborn bull, pressing back on his sole with the cheek of his black steel face. They grunted, shoved, and pushed at each other, itching to get their contender off.

Then the chair began to titter back, giving way under the weight when the sword tossed his partner's hand back at him, smacking him in the face. The sudden shift pushed them backwards until the pair fell clumsily to the wooden floor, exclaiming with surprise. Crona's hand managed to escape Ragnarok's slobbery mouth, but his weapon fought to keep him on the ground, away from the computer where the gross, wet sounds and moans originated.

Then, a gruff sound of a throat-clearing caught the brawling duo's attention. Panting, Crona glanced to his side, and felt his heart stop in his chest.

In the now open doorway stood an unamused Soul staring at them, a carton of milk held in one hand. He blinked, calm ruby glancing to the computer where the loud screams rose out from, then back to the conjoined souls.

"How is it that nearly every time you guys have an interesting conversation or fight, you forget that I live down the hall?" Soul sighed deeply, lifting his free hand to tap at the black headphones around his neck. "Not even these help cancel out the racket you two make. I don't like interrupting, but when it sounds like I have bears wrestling and throwing things around in my apartment, I have to check it out."

Horrified, a wave of panic washed over Crona. The apartment had been quiet when he came home and he had assumed Soul was still out training with Maka. Today must have been one of their days off.

Ragnarok's small torso wringed around to face the scythe. "It's not my fault this overprotected sapling can't take other people's dicks and tits flopping around. If you ask me, this should be healthy for Crona! His mind needs to get desensitized to this if he's going to look for more ways to please the sow in the sack."

Crona slapped a hand over Ragnarok's mouth, hissing at him to be quiet. Soul eyed Crona oddly. "Hang on. You thought going onto a hard-core porn site would help get you some new moves?" His eyes fell on the laptop and let out an even deeper sigh, placing a forefinger and thumb on the bridge of his nose. "You're even using Maka's laptop to look it up. That's uncool, man. _Way_ uncool. I hope you know how to delete your browsing history."

Again, Crona was left confused. "My what?"

"Exactly." Soul scratched the back of his head, looking as uncomfortable as Crona felt. After a moment, his naturally intimidating gaze found Crona's timid one. "Knowing you two, you guys couldn't be at this sort of thing for long. My guess is a month, or less. And _already_ you're desperate to find new moves?"

Crona blushed. His voice dropped to barely above a whisper, "I…I don't know a lot and w-we thought this kind of website would help us. S-So…we tried it out."

An almost mocking smirk lifted the side of Soul's mouth. "And I'm guessing that didn't go very well. Am I right?"

The fierce emittance of crimson on his cheeks and aversion of eyes was how Crona responded. He picked himself up from the floor and sat on the bed. Soul gestured the hand holding his milk to the computer. "I know it's none of my business and you can choose to answer me or not. I'll understand either way. But in all the times you and Maka have fooled around, did she ever want it _that_ mercilessly? Knees by the ears, hands pulled back, any of that?"

Apprehension and confusion fluttered about in Crona's chest. "Um, well, I..." he murmured. "Not really, but one time she-"

The scythe held up an interrupting hand. "It's a yes or no answer, man. I'm happy for you, but this is still a conversation where you're telling your girlfriend's brother that you're plowing her. I don't need details."

Crona shivered, holding his forearms to his chest tightly. From a sibling standpoint, that information definitely must have been uncomfortable. "N-No." he replied. "She…no."

"Then those kinds of videos aren't going to help you."

The anguished meister's thin shoulder's fell, hope withering out of him. "But I-I thought watching that would help give me good advice. It's weird and it makes me uncomfortable, yes, b-but… are you _sure_ it won't help?"

Soul hesitated. "The way I see it, the only way to learn is by doing. Maybe getting some tips from others might help, but in the end, it's your call how you want to perform."

A palpable wall of awkward tension grew thicker and higher between the scythe and sword meister, almost feeling like it was towering over them. They were silent and motionless, while Ragnarok cackled and jeered at the video still playing.

Feeling resigned, Soul emptied the air in his lungs with a long _whoosh_. He set the fallen chair upright and took a seat. "It's weird as hell, but if you were looking at that to make my meister happy, I guess I should be more grateful than insulted. You could have been a cheat like Spirit, but you're not. You don't lie to her, and even if you tried, you couldn't convince a two year old." Crona fidgeted, unsure whether he should be thanking Soul for the compliment or be insulted. The musing weapon scratched his chin, and opened his mouth to say, "If you want, I could give you some pointers. Tell you what I know and what I've heard. Who knows, one of them might be an idea you're looking for."

Despite the dominant emotion of reluctance boiling in Crona's gut, swirls of relief and wonder joined with it. "I-I appreciate that." he replied. "But you already stepped in on something awkward, a-and you seem uncomfortable with the idea already. I couldn't a-ask you to do that."

Soul displayed being indifferent and bored so well, Crona couldn't read in his expression if he was growing impatient with him or was just annoyed. "Dude, I _offered_ that I'm willing to give you tips. If I was totally uncomfortable, do you think I would have asked in the first place?"

Crona remained silent. Discomforted was too mild of a word to say how he felt about talking or giving intimate details about his personal life with Soul's meister. He wasn't sure if this was a good idea, or if he should keep trying to find methods on his own.

But if he was offering…

"You're painfully timid, so you probably can't look me in the eye while I tell you or you tell me." Soul stated bluntly. "Let's do each other a favor, and if you get too uncomfortable, look at the floor or tell me if I go into too much detail. I'll tone it down, or just stop talking about it all together. Got it?"

With the smallest effort one could give, Crona nodded his head. Soul still scared him, sometimes made him want to duck away when his deep lakes of blood looked at him, but he was a decent man, this was more proof of that. He knew Soul was caring, loyal, and true to his meister, going so far as to accept the person who nearly sliced him in two simply for the purpose that Maka wanted to help him; she still was, and now with his help, Crona could return the favor.

"That's _great_ that you two are getting to be all cuddly and close." Ragnarok intruded snidely. "But if you haven't noticed, this punk owes me. You're heart to heart on fucking can take a seat on the sidelines. It's _my_ time."

Crona cringed and Soul's mouth jerked with irritation. The scythe tugged on the headphones resting around his neck and tossed them at the sword's face.

"There." he growled. "If I let you use those on the computer, will it shut you up and keep you out of our conversation?"

Ragnarok looked down at the headphones he held then back up, his eyes swiveling. "Well duh. Why didn't you just toss these in and say I could use them when you came in here? I would have shut up right then and there."

Just as Soul was about to snarl an answer, Ragnarok snapped the headphones on, the padding almost cupping the entirety of the weapon's scalp. He slapped and tugged on his meister's shoulder to get closer to the computer. When he grabbed it, Ragnarok put the laptop on the bed- placing it behind Crona's back so they couldn't see- clicked on a video hastily, and watched.

Soul shook his head. "For starters, try sticking to amateur porn. It's not as hard-core as what Ragnarok's into, but it's more believable. Now, if you want to initiate something or get her in the mood, here's what you can try…"

Crona brought his knees up to his chin, wrapped his arms around them, and listened to the advises Soul gave. When it came to where the hands and mouth could go or how they could play, the conversation took an embarrassing turn. Both of them couldn't meet the other in the eye, and Crona stared at the wall or floor like he had been told while Soul glanced away uncomfortably. The swordsman did his best in stuttering out questions to his white-haired guru: of where on the body he should target and why, how he should do it, and Soul responded with fact and knowledge.

After they finished exchanging confusions and ideas, Crona wondered if hours had passed by. His shyness didn't fade, but he found the daring nerve to look Soul in the eye and recite the mental notes he scrawled into his head. Soul confirmed them with a smirk and a nod, and Crona managed a flinching smile back.

He did wonder where Soul could have acquired this kind of intellect, but decided against asking that question.

"That's all I've got." Soul said. "All I can really tell you now is good luck, and pick wisely. Every girl and guy are into different things. Try to prod when she doesn't notice, and maybe you'll find something you were looking for."

"A-Alright." A weak smile touched Crona's lips. "T-Thank you for the help."

The albino's sharp, trademark grin pulled high on his lips. "Don't mention it. Just do me a favor, and if Maka asks, you learned all that on your own. I had nothing to do with it. It'll save the both of us grief."

Crona nodded, and finally, a comforting peace returned to the pair. As Soul's eyes drifted to the swordsman's back where Ragnarok lounged, his face twisted into a disgusted grimace. "Aw, damn it." he cursed. "We've been talking for nearly two hours and you're _still_ on that website?"

"Hold on, I'm almost done!" Ragnarok declared.

"It might be smart to get off before you get some kind of addiction going." Soul warned. He sat back in his chair, his hands resting behind his head. "Last thing we need is you getting sex-crazed in…whatever way that you do."

"Come on, this is like a short series T.V show. Sure, the plot is crap, but the visuals are great! I didn't even know they had _two_ girls going at it either! Just look at these beauties as they-." The demon stopped. He cocked his head, leaning closer to the screen. "Hang on a second. What…" Ragnarok rubbed his eyes, then glanced back at the computer. "Is that…is that a _shoe_? Those high shoes chicks wear?"

Crona blinked. "You mean high heels?"

Soul's eyes narrowed. "What does a high heel have to do with that video?"

"I'm all for going over the edge but…a shoe?" Ragnarok mumbled. "In…in _there_?"

Curious, the scythe craned his head over and Crona peered back to look at the computer screen. As they watched the video, one where a woman was moving two shoes with five inch heels in and out of her partner, their eyes grew wide.

"Oh dear _god_." Soul rasped. "Turn it off! For the sake of my eyes, _turn it off_!"

Crona gasped quick, horrified breaths. He covered his eyes and fell onto his side, curling into a fetal position. "W-What is even _happening_? Why are they doing that?!"

"How the hell should I know?!" Ragnarok fought back. "Damn it, where's the exit button on this thing?!"

The albino grabbed the computer top and slammed it shut, cutting off the video. The group panted, gathering their breath. Soul snatched his headphones from Ragnarok, placed the laptop back on the desk, and pointed a finger at Crona. " _That_ is one reason why you shouldn't use those sites as a guide. I know it's weird, but ask me first if you get into trouble. Or do as I said and find an amateur site. But for the love of what's good for you, _don't_ go there again." Soul shuddered, raking a hand through his white mane. "And to think, Black Star has shown me videos worse than that…"

Crona trembled, not daring to imagine, and gave the albino a nod of understanding. Ragnarok rubbed the back of his head, uttering, "I knew those things could get intense, but I didn't think it would go _that_ far. First time for everything."

"Didn't think what would get intense?"

The group of boys froze. Their heads whipped around to face the door, finding Maka-donned in her long, black coat and red skirt- standing in the doorway. She slipped off one of the straps of her backpack, glancing curiously at her roommates. "What are you guys doing in here?" she asked.

Crona sat stiffly. His gaping mouth trembled, his eyes darting from Maka to Soul. Ragnarok retreated into his meister, seeking for safety as Soul tucked his hands into his pockets. "Nothing." he responded. "Crona just had a nightmare. He screamed loud enough to wake a tranquilized horse, so I checked up on him."

Maka pursed her lips thoughtfully. That would explain why Ragnarok was out. He had an annoying habit of bursting out to scold Crona after he disrupted his so called "beauty naps". She looked at the bed before glancing over to Crona. "You didn't sleep under the covers? Or change out of your robe? It's freezing outside."

Soul shrugged. "It's his choice how he wants to sleep. He didn't say hi when he came in, so he probably wanted a nap after school, because he's a _normal_ student. Unlike you. Did you seriously stay at the library for three hours right after our last class? "

Maka raised a challenging brow. "And unlike you, I'm actually worried about what I get on our final exams. I use the valuable time we have after class to study, like _you_ should be doing."

Soul plucked wax out of his ear with a pinky, acting like he failed or strained to hear her. Swiftly, Maka carried out his punishment, smashing down a skull-crushing Maka Chop to crack the top of his head. As her weapon lay motionless on the floor, Maka glanced to Crona, noticing his eyes were wide and afraid; the way they always were after night terrors.

Threading a soft as silk hand atop his, she asked, "How bad was it this time?"

"B-Bad." While Soul rose up from the floor, his dented head steaming from the recent abuse, Crona's shaky cerulean found wounded red. " _Very_ bad."

The scythe made a knowing nod. "Just remember what I said: it could have been worse. You were lucky."

Maka felt Crona tremble harder beneath her hand. Her eyebrow piqued up, staring at her weapon expectantly to explain a more in-depth meaning, but Soul turned his back, chugging the milk carton as he waved a hand of farewell. An irritated vein thumped in the scythe wielder's temple. She decided her bloodied book would have another date with his head after she talked to Crona.

"Have they been getting worse?" Maka prompted. "The nightmares? They seem to be happening more often."

Crona veered his sights away from the worried clouds stirring in Maka's eyes. "They're n-not as bad as they could be. I just haven't been getting a lot of sleep with all the homework and tests." Crona cringed inwardly. He wasn't technically lying; she didn't ask him what really happened and with all the exams, homework, and projects being thrown at him, his mind had been left unbalanced, steadily sinking back into greater fatigue. So why did he feel bad? "But Soul came in and helped me get over it. I-I'm better now."

Maka's face brightened, more than pleased. "I'm glad to hear. He's a lazy, stubborn louse at times, but he's a good friend." she smiled jokingly. "When he wants to be, at least."

There was that word again. _Friend_. It made Crona lower his eyes, his chin falling until he stared at his lap.

Throughout his stay in the apartment, Soul felt more like a pleasant roommate-a colleague relative to the students you know and only greet while in class- not the close friend he should be. He was a large part of Maka's life, and to not be closer to him pained Crona. They tried talking at dinner or when they were alone, but while their pains may have been somewhat alike, their interests were different.

"Don't worry about him keeping his guard up." Maka told Crona. He looked at her, surprised, and she gave him a gentle smile. "Getting Soul out of his shell is like trying to drink soup with a fork. He's a bigger pain that way, and I'm sure he loves that." She stood up on her tip-toes, leaned in, and rested a gentle kiss to Crona's cheek. "You'll get used to each other, eventually."

A hint of a smile touched Crona's lips. "If you say so." He sat up from his seat, giving her hand a squeeze before letting it fall away. "I-I think I should go thank Soul for calming me down, and get started on dinner. It's my turn tonight."

A bright smile expanded on Maka's lips. "Go for it. I've got more homework to finish in the meantime. Tell me when it's ready!"

Crona nodded, and walked to the kitchen where Soul fetched leftover pizza from the refrigerator, slapping a slice onto a plate. He heard the timid patter of Crona's footsteps on the tile and turned around.

"You can save your thanks, if that's what you're here to do." Soul said. "As long as I'm helping out, it's no problem." After placing his plate into the microwave and shutting the door, he put a hand to his forehead, shaking his head. "Although...I could have done without seeing what Ragnarok was watching. I can't… _ughh_."

Crona shut his eyes, trying to force the images away. At least he wasn't the only one who found it frightening that putting the high-heel of a stiletto in _both_ of a woman's nether areas was a sex video idea. He may truly have a nightmare, after all.

After a moment, Soul called, "Crona."

Lines grew between his brows toward the tension from Soul's summons. When Crona opened his eyes, he found the scythe's face had turned pale, his eyes nearly as large and white as boiled eggs.

"Ragnarok exited out of the site he was on before I closed the laptop, right?" he whispered tensely.

A pause. "I-I'm not sure. It happened so fast, I couldn't see. Why?

A shrill shriek of surprise answered Crona's question; Maka's shriek. His heart leapt into his throat, the nervous boil in his gut returning.

Soul thumped his head on the microwave door, "Aw… _shit_."

* * *

 **Remember. When a good friend asks you "Want to see something weird?" don't say yes. _Don't_. _Do it_.**


End file.
